


im all dressed up and naked (i see what's mine and take it)

by the_bisexual_disaster



Series: kat's classy fics (tm) [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Sexual Tension, Sparring, arya learns new languages to make more friends, davos makes a bet and loses, i took this and ran with it, i was dared to do this so here i am at 20 mins to midnight, like just imagine this as some random scene inside 8x01, not entirely sansa friendly but also i dont bash her, someone give my baby a hug, yes this includes daenerys and missandei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bisexual_disaster/pseuds/the_bisexual_disaster
Summary: “So,” Davos started, “who do ya think’ll win this little fight?”“It’s hard to say, Davos,” Jon finally replied. “Normally I’d say Gendry would win, but he doesn’t seem used to fighting. He’s become a close friend, but brute strength won’t get him very far with her.”“So, your sister then?” Davos replied, and Jon sighed in response.“Yes, Ser Davos, I do believe my sister will win this fight.”
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow & Arya Stark
Series: kat's classy fics (tm) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815244
Comments: 28
Kudos: 126





	im all dressed up and naked (i see what's mine and take it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slytherin_Princess_Nysa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherin_Princess_Nysa/gifts).



> hello! apparently posting twice in one day is becoming the norm for me since i keep getting presented with oneshot prompts.  
> credit for the idea goes to @incorrect-game-of-thrones on tumblr (https://incorrect-game-of-thrones.tumblr.com/post/622199351671947264/jon-who-do-you-think-would-win-in-a-fight-between) and credit for me actually writing this goes to my lovely wife, who dared me to do it (i hope i included enough angst for your liking :3)  
> title from emperor's new clothes by panic! at the disco

“So,” Davos started, “who do ya think’ll win this little fight?”

Jon took a deep breath as he deliberated the question. Below them, in the makeshift training yard, his little sister, Arya was preparing to spar with his newest smith, Gendry. A few days ago, Jon might have answered with the smith, with little room for debate. The man was much larger and appeared much stronger than Arya did, and had Jon not seen his little sister fight with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t have believed that she had a chance of winning.

According to Sansa, Arya had gone up against Brienne of Tarth and was able to stand her ground against the larger woman. It must have been a feat to witness, but Sansa would not elaborate any further, a hint of bitterness in her tone as she reluctantly described the event. Curious, Jon had gone out to the yard to see if he could watch Arya and see her skills for himself. He witnessed the end of her sparring session, watching her sweep one of Dany’s Dothraki’s feet right out from under him and aim her Needle directly at his throat. Surprisingly, the Dothraki laughed in good humour. He said something to Arya in his native language and she responded in clear, albeit broken, Dothraki. Ever since they’d arrived, she’d been adamant on learning their language and was taking lessons with Missandei. Jon was impressed that she was so dedicated to learning it and even more so that she’d done so well in such a short time.

“It’s hard to say, Davos,” Jon finally replied. “Normally I’d say Gendry would win, but he doesn’t seem used to fighting. He’s become a close friend, but brute strength won’t get him very far with her.”

“So, your sister then?” Davos replied, and Jon sighed in response.

“Yes, Ser Davos, I do believe my sister will win this fight.”

“Well, in that case, I do believe the right thing for me to do is bet on Gendry,” Davos chuckled. “It would only make it more fair.”

“I didn’t know this was a bet, good ser.”

“It is now.” Davos extended his hand, and Jon grasped it.

“Then it’s a bet.”

They watched from the ramparts as Arya and Gendry prepared themselves for their fight. It wasn’t going to be much of a fight, Jon knew, as they fought with dulled swords and it was beginning to snow heavily. Gendry adjusted his grip on his sword and rotated his body so his side was facing her. Likewise, Arya did the same, except her stance was more relaxed, her grip looser and her posture more natural. It was something similar to what he saw in experienced fighters, whereas Gendry’s posture reminded him of Sam during his first day training on the wall in a way. Even from his spot up on the ramparts, Jon saw a daring smirk on Arya’s face that was reflected on Gendry’s.

 _Curious,_ Jon thought, making a mental note to bother Arya about it later.

He chuckled as Gendry took the first swing and missed widely. Arya stepped out of the way of his blade almost effortlessly, as if she saw it coming. Her sword stayed behind her back as she continued to dance around Gendry’s clumsy swings. Jon heard Davos laugh heartily and joined in when Gendry tripped over Arya’s feet and crashed to the ground. Arya swung her dulled blade around and held it at his neck, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Do you surrender?” she asked.

He knocked her blade aside with his arm, knowing that it wouldn’t do damage, but Jon cringed anyways. Gendry reached out with a leg and swept Arya’s feet out from under her, rolling on top of her so their positions were reversed as she fell.

“Never, m’lady,” he replied.

They continued in this manner for some time, and Jon grew more and more uncomfortable with the level of _intimacy_ there seemed to be in this fight. He never knew a sparring match could be so charged in this way. He didn’t even know they _knew_ each other, yet they seemed familiar with each other’s movements, their ticks and their weaknesses. As she did whenever Jon saw her fight, Arya used her size and her speed to her advantage, but Gendry seemed prepared for this and tried to move quicker. He knew he was expected to use his strength more, so he tried to be faster, a difficult tactic for a swordsman of his skill level. Jon himself found it was difficult to be fast. Somehow, Arya made it work, but the weight of the steel made her falter. She still managed to end the match by getting Gendry flat on his back and putting her sword to his throat.

“Yield,” she commanded, and Gendry chuckled. They stayed like that for a while, a shared moment hanging in the air between them as they smiled sadly. Arya removed her sword and extended a hand to help Gendry up.

“I suppose that’s that,” Davos sighed, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired. “What do I owe ya, son?”

“Nothing, Davos,” Jon replied with a false smile on his face. “It was all in good fun, Ser Davos. I’d never ask a friend to owe me anything.”

“If you insist,” Davos remarked and walked away, leaving Jon on the ramparts to consider what he had just witnessed. He pondered for the longest time over what he should do next and landed on one conclusion.

He needed to talk to Arya.

“Arya!”

She was walking out of the forge, which would have had Jon confused had he not come to the forge for one specific reason. He had a feeling she’d be there, and he was right.

She turned towards the sound of his voice and greeted him with a smile he rarely saw on her anymore. “Jon!” she answered and launched herself into his arms like she always did when they were children. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that she was still so young, that _he_ was still so young. Those days before the wars felt like a lifetime away.

He placed her down on the ground and took a step back, preparing for the conversation he was about to have with her. He tried to imagine what Ned Stark would have done in Jon’s place and did his best to channel him.

“Why do you look so serious all of a sudden?” she laughed, poking his cheek in jest, which made him smile in return. She was only so carefree and happy anymore when it was just them around, and even then it didn’t seem entirely genuine.

“I need to talk to you.”

“About?”

“That match.” The words were hard to get out. “The one with Gendry.”

At once, the smile fell from her face and was replaced by the emotionless mask she always wore, but he knew her better than that. Underneath that mask was thinly veiled anger and hesitation. She knew what he was going to say.

“What about it?”

“I wasn’t aware you two knew each other,” he explained.

She frowned. “I thought he told you.”

“He didn’t say a word to me.”

She sighed in resignation and pulled him along by the wrist. “Come with me,” she said, her voice flat. “It’s best we have this conversation elsewhere.”

“So, you’re telling me you’ve known Gendry for _years_?” Jon asked after Arya finished her story, bewildered. He even had the forethought to wipe away the remaining tears from his eyes from when she described Harrenhal to him. Not even in his worst nightmares had he dreamed that she’d gone through that kind of hell.

“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was too flat, too emotionless, and Jon just wanted her to do _something_. “We’ve known each other for years.”

They sat in silence for a long time while Jon finished digesting her story. 

“Do you love him?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

“I do,” she answered. “He’s a dear friend.”

“You know I don’t mean like that, Arya.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I guess… I don’t know anymore.”

“I think you do know,” he told her. “I think you know but you don’t want to say it because you think he’ll leave again.”

“I thought I knew him.” Her voice began to waver and Jon felt his heart crack. “I thought it was what he wanted, a family. I thought _I_ was his family. What does that even _mean_ ‘I’d be his lady’?”

He chuckled. “It means he loved you.”

“We were children.”

“Aye, you were, but I doubt that changed his feelings for you. He’s a bastard, like me. Bastards know their place.”

“What do you reckon he thinks his place is?” she asked, hesitantly.

“In the forge, most like, while your place is in the castle.”

“I’d rather be in the forge with him,” she said rather petulantly. “I hate the pretense and the conniving. I love being home and I’m so happy I’ve gotten to see you again, but Sansa…”

“I know,” he sighed. “I hate it too.”

She sniffed and Jon wiped an errant tear from her cheek. 

“Go spend your time with him,” he told her. “That’s an order from your king.”

“You aren’t worried about the _rumours_ , Jon?”

“I can make sure no one says anything about it. He makes you happy, and seeing you happy makes me happy.”

She smiled again, and this time he noticed it reached her eyes. 

“Thank you, Jon. Truly.” She reached up to kiss his cheek and dashed towards the forge.

“And, Arya,” he started, stopping her in her tracks, “remember…”

A mischievous grin crept across his face to match the one on hers.

“ _Don’t… tell... Sansa!”_


End file.
